Last of Confrontations
by Denki Rexi
Summary: In a clash between red and blue, Fushimi and Yata find themselves facing off once again, in a battle that could only end terribly for either. One-shot.


**A/N: Had this half written before K – episode 11 came out. Completed it today after tragedy struck. It's probably **_**still**_** within the canon to a large extent. Possibly. Though if something like this becomes canon by the end of the anime's airing, I will weep and jump off a cliff. I hope this short story treats y'all well; figuratively speaking.**

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"Misaki...Misaki..!" Fushimi breathed the name of his former partner as he stood a small distance away from the enraged skateboarder. He savoured the words as they fell hungrily from his lips. Every waking moment for Fushimi was constantly marked with fleeting images of his one obsession: Yata Misaki. Having once stayed in a state of intimate dependence on this ex-clansman had carved unceasing pangs of longing and desire; a wishful desire for Yata's complete attention on him and him alone. Fushimi's lips trembled as he cleanly sliced the charged air that surrounded the approaching two, flicking away traces of blood that had latched on his sword.

"Hahaha...Ahhh, Misaki...How I've longed for this day..." Lunacy traced Fushimi's words. His eyes while affixed on Misaki quivered with dark thoughts. Tearing at his battered uniform, Fushimi dug his nails into the deformed tattoo etched on his skin. A symbol that represented the deep bonds and pride they shared; bonds that are thinning threateningly at its edges. Like a piece of wood slowly being gnashed and destroyed by a swarm of termites, such was the fate of the two who once shared the same laughter, the same pain, the same flame.

"Saru, you fucking traitor!"

Misaki's thunderous roar was cloaked in deep seated hatred. A few meters away from Fushimi, another Homra member's body had crumpled onto the ground. Blood seeped out of the finely slashed wound of the plump member's abdomen. Life trickled out into the open, painfully dissipating into the air.

"Ughh...Yata-san..!" Rikio gasped while running his trembling fingers over the gushing wound. He was barely hovering between the realm of conscious and unconscious. The lenses of his trademark pair of shades bore a cracking pattern as it laid a distance from the bulky man. "That monkey's lost it..!"

Turning to face Fushimi, Yata snarled and eased into a defensive crouch. "Fucking monkey! Those guys were once your friends! Do those friendships fucking break that easily?!" Yata gripped his skateboard till the whites of his knuckles showed. Crimson aura burned furiously, consuming the entirety of both skateboard and skateboarder. Flickering wisps of stray flames hopped madly about in anticipation. Yata's stance alone screamed violence and anger for his fallen comrades. He was rearing to blaze towards the man he had branded as traitor and pummel him into the deep into the ground.

"Misaki, that's the kind of attitude I simply love about you. That's right, hate me. Hate me for crushing your beloved clansmen!" Igniting his blue flames to life, Fushimi pointed his blade towards Yata. An ugly smirk stretched ominously across his face. Deep laughter rippled across the air in an unnatural rhythm as Fushimi continued closer to Yata with slow, careful steps.

"Yes...no superiors to keep me in check, no pesky spectators present to interrupt our time together...Everyone's too caught up in their issues right now and that means I get you all to myself, Mi-sa-ki!"

"Tch! Your head's screwed on the wrong direction, fucking monkey!" With an impatient growl, Yata threw his skateboard onto the ground, letting it spin idly for a good 360 degree, before hopping on and kicking the dirt off the ground huffily. Flames erupted to life as the wheels grinded with the asphalt-mixed road. An explosive burst of speed propelled Yata towards Fushimi who stood with welcoming arms and whose eyes carried a masochistic glint. Kick-flipping his board across minor crevasses in the road and building momentum, Yata roared as he bent his knees almost to a squat before stomping the edge of the skateboard's tail and jumping with it. The upward spiraling Yata hooked his elbows while momentum spun him round, creating a fast spinning flurry of punches fuelled with fire. Fushimi narrowed his eyes at the swift barrage of punches while pulling up his arms in a defensive manner before throwing sword thrusts in counter. The explosion of blue and red lit the otherwise dim grounds like firework displays. Their unbelievable dance of hot-headed violence and taunting cunning played in perfect synchrony.

"SARU!"  
"Heheh…Hahahahah! MI-SA-KI!"  
"I'm gonna pummel you!"

Teeth gritted with crushing pressure, Yata launched his fist straight at Fushimi's face. Yata's charged jab collided with Fushimi's cheek, quickly decolouring the originally pale pigments on his face. Simultaneously, a deep line stretched across Yata's cheek as blood oozed from the newly formed sword wound.

Fushimi lowered his head slightly, one eye jammed shut in pain, before lashing his sword out again. A burst of red aura sent Yata flying back in recoil, avoiding the brunt of Fushimi's attack. With an impatient grunt, Yata forcefully propelled himself forward again. Skateboard hammered on sword continually from different angles and sparks flew. Fushimi retreated with small steps at each collision; his eyes scrutinising Yata's haphazard attacks. Brute force was never his forte. Calculated counter attacks that take into account how his opponent would potentially strike was the hallmark of Fushimi's combat style. And considering how he was able to so easily taunt the chestnut-haired boy, reading Yata proved exceptionally simple if not pleasurable for the Scepter 4 soldier.

"What's the matter huh?! Can't land a decent attack on me eh, Saru?!"

Yata swiped the blood off his cheek as his lips broke into a haughty smirk. He circled cautiously around Fushimi, aura unrelenting. All about the two, unconscious bodies of both Homra and Scepter 4 members littered the half destroyed battleground. Those who were still kicking and fighting had bounded towards different locations. The fight between red and blue was gradually approaching the pinnacle as the explosive clash between the kings took a toll on the infrastructure of the area.

"Heh, you must be mistaken Misaki."

While Fushimi stood calmly in his spot, hardly rattled by Yata's taunts, his narrowed eyes followed Yata closely. "After all, you're the one who can't land a decent attack on me."

"What'd you say?!" Yata snarled with the ferocity of a wildebeest. Then, skidding to a stop, Yata regarded Fushimi with seething eyes. "Tch, I should be with Mikoto-san, helping him wipe out the other blue bastards instead of wasting my time here!"

Kicking the ground gruffly, Yata edged forward again. His skateboard clawed against the ground; tail and tip, tail and tip. Yata's hands spread wide open as he continued with his skateboard's circular carving motions, conjuring up a flaming tempest from the core of his wheels to the crown of his head. What was meant as a ruthless attack looked to be a breath-taking hurricane of roses as reddish flames swirled about the chestnut haired boy with increasing breadth.

Fushimi gave a half-smile as he observed the impending attack. Pushing his glasses against the bridge of his nose, his voice lowered till it was barely above a whisper. "Even now...you still don't see me, huh?"

As if struck by a stray bolt of raw emotions, Fushimi crunched his left fist and screamed, "Mikoto, Mikoto! Even when I'm the only one standing before you, all you see is your precious Mikoto-san and your stupid Homra?! " Pain which seared through Fushimi's words came to be heard as loud rumblings from an almost deranged man. Yata's eyes widened with fury at Fushimi's blatant insult at the Homra he loved; an insult at the one man he felt the most pride for.

"I don't want anyone insulting Mikoto-san and Homra like that! Especially not you, traitor!"

At Yata's words, blue flames blazed to life. Fushimi clenched his sword and faced the fiery tempest. His face wore a conflicted smirk. Bloodthirsty fire leapt towards Fushimi as Yata tore, fist first, at the hilt of Fushimi's sword. Oblivious to the surface of his scepter 4 uniform and exposed skin which was getting burned with enemy flames, Fushimi jerked his wrists and made a swishing motion towards the skateboarder. His other free hand nimbly reached inside his sleeve and with instinctive reflexes, plunged a dagger at Yata's shoulder. A small rain of blood coloured Fushimi's blue uniform. Crimson spread quickly across Yata's white sleeves shirt.

"Nngaaahh!"  
"Hahah...It seems like my daggers remember and enjoy feasting on your flesh; the same part, no less!"  
"Fucking monkey..!"

Yata's red flames flickered and died leaving but a shadow of aura that continued to surround the injured youth. Fushimi's dagger glowed red before bursting into flames of its own, leaving Yata screaming in familiar pain.

Smirking, Fushimi whispered, "Remember when you asked me what it is I wanted from joining Scepter 4?"

"W-what?!"

Yata gripped Fushimi's hand forcefully in a bid to remove the lodged dagger in his shoulder. Pain shot through every fibre of his body as Fushimi firmly held the dagger in place.

"Nothing. I didn't really want anything, Misaki." Laughing twistedly, Fushimi continued,"Flesh and bones...Yes, all I really want are _your_ flesh and bones, Misaki! I want to own Misaki Yata, from your flesh, down to your bones. Because, Misaki originally belonged to me!"

A raw jolt of fear slithered down Yata's spine. His skin crawled at the sheer obsession and madness in Fushimi's words. Fushimi cackled wildly. He dug deeper with the dagger before slashing at Yata again, inflicting another long slash wound at his face.

"All of it, Misaki! Yes, that includes your blood, your pain!"

"You...How'd you become this fucking twisted, Saru?!"

Yata staggered painfully back and pulled the dagger out of his shoulder before throwing it to the ground. Gleeful that Yata's attention was now solely on him, Fushimi pulled out another dagger and grinned widely. Red flames glowered within the all-consuming blue that shrouded the taller youth.

"Twisted? Hahaha, if that's what it seems to you. Now, entertain me even more, Mi-sa-ki~!"  
"Saru!"

Having recovered slightly from Fushimi's attack, Yata blazed with fire again and continued with another barrage of rapid attacks. Fuelled with a deeper anger, Yata's movements were faster and sharper than before. As they clashed again, the reddish flames on Fushimi's dagger started flickering and waning. Even his blue flames wavered with instability. His momentary distraction created an opening which allowed Yata to swoop right in with his skateboard, knocking the distracted Fushimi off his feet. Fushimi was knocked into a short daze as he landed harshly on the ground; his glasses cracked and flew off from the impact.

"How d'you like that, Saru?!"  
"Nngghh…"

Fushimi growled half in pain, half with indignation over his carelessness. He pushed himself back up on his feet. Eyes darting about Yata and his surroundings, he made a slight 'tch' and massaged his head. _"What was that all about? Why'd my flames feel like they were running amok for a while there?" _

"Fucking monkey!"

Yata charged towards Fushimi again with an aerial roundhouse; his skateboard burning with intense flames as they collided with Fushimi's barely raised sword. Yata jumped off the board, over Fushimi's head, landing behind him and continuing with the rain of assault. Fushimi's counters were losing their edge while Yata's attacks increased with frequency and power. The small issue with his flames tormented Fushimi to no end, ruining his concentration towards the chestnut-haired youth.

"You're losing your edge, Saru!"  
"You think so, Misaki?"

Fushimi scratched at his chest again, where the disfigured Homra tattoo remains etched. His nails dug deeper than before, leaving blood-filled indentations over the patch of skin. Irritated, he cocked his head to the sight and gazed longingly at Yata. Without warning, Fushimi disappeared from where he stood and reappeared right in front of Yata, his sword lunged for Yata's shoulders. With a deft duck, Yata swept at Fushimi's legs before executing a flawless somersault away from him. Fushimi thrust his sword towards Yata again with heightened tenacity; blue flames bounded towards the youth before the sword was even in a close enough range. Yata slipped below the dangerous blue and leapt for his skateboard. Following a sharp 180 degree carve, Yata sped towards Fushimi on his skateboard. As his board collided with Fushimi's sword for the umpteenth time, Fushimi's dual coloured flames burst to life again before suddenly flickering and dwindling again.

"_What the hell's happening?!" _

Fushimi's eyes widened in shock and confusion as the problematic phenomena sparked again. This time, his attention was further absorbed by the issue with his flames. He didn't see the approaching skateboarder quick enough to raise a decent guard. Roaring, Yata smashed down on Fushimi from the air. His skateboard drove straight at Fushimi's outstretched arm. Fushimi's eyes locked with Yata's in that brief moment. The sheer force of gravity pulled Yata's skateboard downwards, despite Fushimi's resistance. Fushimi's armed hand was forcefully plunged down. The tip of the sword pierced through his stomach, and then the full blade slid straight in.

"Gaaahh!" Fushimi gasped in shock as the feeling of a foreign object was forcefully intruded into his body. Blue and red flickered about Fushimi, creating a faint shade of purple before completely dissipating. Yata landed abruptly, his mouth agape when greeted with the scene. Fushimi's body went limp instantly, falling over without any care for grace whatsoever anymore. Kicking his skateboard away, Yata caught him, eyes widened at the severity of what had just happened. Fushimi's soft smirking laugh chimed in Yata's ears as he reached for the sword lodged in his stomach with weakening arms. As if time lost its power and meaning, Yata stood frozen with Fushimi's body slumped in his arms, tears welling up in his eyes. At that moment, all hatred dissipated instantaneously, like torrential rains beating down on a raging flame.

"Uughhh..." Fushimi rasped painfully as he barely managed to pull out the sword before dropping it. Blood flowed unceasingly. Stains of red marred his uniform, spreading quickly. It almost seemed as though someone had spilled a bottle full of red ink on a piece of rice paper; the liquid substance seeped. Yata's hands were soon dripping with Fushimi's blood. At the touch of the warm, sticky liquid, he dropped to his knees. His hands shook Fushimi lightly and his voice trembled.

"Oi, Saru...You were supposed to have blocked that attack, not…"

A painful cough made Fushimi's body convulse. Blood spurted out of his mouth and left him wheezing for breath. With the little strength left in his wrecked body, he gripped Yata's shoulders painfully and pushed himself away from the stunned youth.

"Haaa...Haaa...Looks like...this is it huh..."

Weariness laced Fushimi's eyes. A myriad of emotions flickered beneath their surface; emotions that Yata hasn't seen ever since the two had joined Homra. Even before then, such plain emotions were expertly veiled by Fushimi. Yata stared at Fushimi's face. At such close proximity, he noted the soft contours that shaped his ex-partner's pale features. He noted the eye-bags that had grown since they last saw each other, years ago. He hadn't realised these small details about Fushimi before.

Fushimi raised his hand and gently swiped at the crusting layer of blood on Yata's face before letting it fall limply to his side again. "Misaki...you do look more mature...now that I see your face...like this again..."

"S-Saru..! Oi don't say stupid things like that! I need to call someone to get here now!"

"Don't be stupid...No one will come...at least in the end, Misaki's giving me...his full attention..."

Fushimi drew a ragged breath and coughed more blood. Time was ticking away impatiently for him and he could feel it clearly.

"N-no! It's not the end! Stupid Saru! Why'd you even betray us in the first place?! Things wouldn't have fallen to such a state if you—"  
"Misaki betrayed me first…when you joined Homra."

With his half-smirk barely visible on his face, Fushimi struggled to reach out for Misaki's face again, sliding his cold fingers across his wounds. Fushimi's voice was becoming softer and more emotional as he squeezed the extent of his last words.

"Saru..! Saruhiko! Don't die on me too! After Totsuka-san died, I don't want anyone else dying on me! Saruhiko!" Yata couldn't hold back his tears any longer. Despite his hatred for this man whom he had labelled traitor, the years of friendship and emotions they shared before easily quelled that hatred, replacing it with deep affections; affections that had remained locked away ever since Saruhiko left Homra. Yata clung helplessly onto Fushimi's limp shoulders and shook him lightly again as he cried, "Why didn't you return, damnit?! You didn't have to stay with those Blues! You can't die on me now! Not like this you can't! Saruhiko, y'hear me?!"

"I hated…Homra…and everyone…who stole you…from me…" Fushimi's voice was strained and flushed with the last ounce of emotions that he could muster. "I…wanted…Misa…ki…"

At his last drawn out words, life was sapped dry from the pale, tall youth. Fushimi's body fell lifelessly towards Yata; his head rested on the stunned skateboarder's chest. Without all the blood and bruises had that blossomed across the two's damaged bodies, it would have seemed like Fushimi was merely taking a nap while snuggled against his old friend's chest. Alas, the situation opposes such a viewpoint. Yata's body shook with grief; uncontrollable tears watered on Fushimi's weary head. His hands had instinctively cradled the body of his ex-partner. Howling, Yata screamed Fushimi's name over and over again; as if his words could reach the realm of the dead. Nevertheless, he tried though to no avail.

"Saruhiko! You stupid bastard! You're not supposed to really die! No..! Not when you label me a traitor like that!" Yata hugged the lifeless body tightly, blinking his tears away. "You always knew how to play my emotions as you like, didn't you?! Stupid Saruhiko!"

Yata's voice was barely a whisper. Choking frequently on his words, he poured his anguish into his words; words that could not be heard by anyone else.

"Saruhiko..! I…I really wanted you to return to Homra with me! All these times, even now..!"

"_Saruhiko you..! You were my most precious friend! And yet…"_


End file.
